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the taste of t-o-r-t-u-r-e
My addiction to counting letters
strikes me in weird moments.
As I read the Sunday paper I see
the slippery symmetry unfold.
You see, I always notice
the seven letters in "torture."
And it is quite a mathematical word.
The t's and r's in repetition
dancing around the vowels.
The t in the center holding a strong
anchor in two powerful syllables.
Out to tour our rote retort o're our outer route.
Swimming in words we are. These sounds
bouncing from left to right. Engaging
our senses in delectable traces, whilst
we lost all sense of carnal motivation.
Lost in video screens with delicious
sounds created with the in-breath filling
lungs, an exhilation with tongues wriggling
in missive decay forming subtle meanings.
Masticate these words. Eat "torture"
in its full seven letters. Caress it
with your tongue until you've tasted
your own blood mingling with the sound.
Until the word swallows itself unleashing
each life left bound in unthinkable sorrow
do we have the right to forgive those
seven letters' existence in our parched
yet gloriously smacking lips.
Until these seven letters open up
into a moral imperative can we drink
from the waterglass set in immaculate
clarity near the well-used couch.
So chew on this word, each of its
seven letters. T-O-R-T-U-R-E until
we are may move on our own freedom.
strikes me in weird moments.
As I read the Sunday paper I see
the slippery symmetry unfold.
You see, I always notice
the seven letters in "torture."
And it is quite a mathematical word.
The t's and r's in repetition
dancing around the vowels.
The t in the center holding a strong
anchor in two powerful syllables.
Out to tour our rote retort o're our outer route.
Swimming in words we are. These sounds
bouncing from left to right. Engaging
our senses in delectable traces, whilst
we lost all sense of carnal motivation.
Lost in video screens with delicious
sounds created with the in-breath filling
lungs, an exhilation with tongues wriggling
in missive decay forming subtle meanings.
Masticate these words. Eat "torture"
in its full seven letters. Caress it
with your tongue until you've tasted
your own blood mingling with the sound.
Until the word swallows itself unleashing
each life left bound in unthinkable sorrow
do we have the right to forgive those
seven letters' existence in our parched
yet gloriously smacking lips.
Until these seven letters open up
into a moral imperative can we drink
from the waterglass set in immaculate
clarity near the well-used couch.
So chew on this word, each of its
seven letters. T-O-R-T-U-R-E until
we are may move on our own freedom.
posted by Will at 10:44 PM
3 Comments:
Hi!
I don't know much about poetry, but I love this poem, your writing style is amazing. =)
I usually like poems that are related to something happening in my life, but yours doesn't need to do that, it's amazing.
By the way, thanks for being my roomie this week. Visit me anytime.
XoXo
Gaby
Thanks for the comment. I try to write in a way that gets you in touch with sounds, images, smells, tastes, etc... I try to give you something that will make you feel something, even if it isn't necessarily related to what I'm writing about. I've spent a lot of time writing, and I'm glad you appreciate it... I hope you'll continue to enjoy my writings.
Will, I really like this one! I love the imagery it creates... the 'torture' of your tongue biting down to eat its words until you draw blood... that is excellent metaphor, I think.
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